


The First and Last Times

by Janieohio



Series: Quidditch League Oneshots [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Death, Cute Kids, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Growing Old Together, Love, Married Couple, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24710431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janieohio/pseuds/Janieohio
Summary: Hermione Granger doesn't need anyone's validation, and she certainly doesn't need someone to tell her she's pretty. Even so, it always seems that it's the moments she's feeling her least attractive that Ron notices her beauty. A series of moments over a life spent together.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: Quidditch League Oneshots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691950
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	The First and Last Times

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the sixth round of the Quidditch League fanfiction competition.

The first time he'd ever told her she was beautiful, she was standing in the Chamber of Secrets, hadn't showered in what felt like weeks, had blood smeared across her face, and was holding a basilisk fang. She'd probably never felt less beautiful in her life, and she was sure she'd never cared less what she looked like than she had at that moment.

And he'd turned and saw _her,_ in all her truly horrendous glory, and said, "Merlin, Hermione, you're beautiful." That was the moment she knew that her long time crush on her best friend was likely to turn into something more.

* * *

Hermione sat on the floor of their flat, books piled in stacks all around her and parchment across her lap. She'd been studying for weeks in preparation for her Wizarding Examinations of Law and Magic, and she was exhausted.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?" Ron yelled from their kitchen where he was making dinner.

Living with Ronald Bilius Weasley wasn't always the easiest of things she'd taken on in her life. It wasn't Horcrux hunting or anything, but it certainly was harder than she'd expected to be completely in love with another person. He could be crass, hurtful when he spoke without thinking, and he had a jealous streak that would sometimes rear its ugly head, though that had improved remarkably as he got older.

But he was also kind, and he was ridiculously loyal to his friends and family, and he made her laugh. And, thank goodness, he liked to cook for her.

"Can you bring me the heavy blue book on my bedside table? Please?"

She heard him grunt in assent and returned to the volume before her. She knew the penal code she was looking for just had to be in this chapter somewhere.

A voice from beside her ear startled her. "Circe, you're sexy when you're studying."

"What?" she asked, exasperated. "Ron, don't be ridiculous, I'm a terrible mess."

He leaned down closer, examining her face, and pushed a tendril of her light-brown hair behind her ear, then wiped some ink off her cheek.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever known, Hermione Jean Granger." She watched his eyes flit around her face, as though he was memorising each feature. She felt her face growing hot at the attention.

He moved a few of the books beside her out of the way, and she tried not to groan at the disruption to her organisational system. "Hermione, I was going to wait, but…" He hesitated and took a deep breath. "Will you marry me?"

She simply stared at him in disbelief. She felt her jaw drop, but couldn't seem to pull herself together. He hadn't honestly proposed, had he? While she sat in pyjama pants and covered in ink, her hair in a ratty bun with a quill through it?

He laughed nervously. "Hermione?" He caressed her cheek softly.

"Ronald—" She cut herself off, still unsure what to say. After several moments, she put her parchment down and covered his hand on her cheek with her own. "Now?"

"Why not now? You just looked so entirely gorgeous there, and I couldn't stop myself. I was trying to let you finish your WELPs first and was going to propose next month, but you took my breath away."

She felt tears well up behind her eyes. _Great,_ she thought. _I'll make my eyes puffy and ugly on top of it all._ She inhaled, pushed down the tears, and smiled. "Of course I'll marry you, you big buffoon. But the first thing I'm going to do when we're married will be to get you some glasses."

He let out a whoop of happiness and leaned in to kiss her deeply. When he pulled back, both of them breathing a bit heavily, he grinned. "And I can see quite well on my own, thank you very much. Now get cleaned up and let's have our dinner, then I'll help you study."

God, he was romantic.

* * *

"Oh, God, I think I'm going to die."

Ron sat down on the edge of the bathtub while she knelt on the bathroom floor, heaving into the toilet. She'd never felt so sick in all her life.

When she sat back, he reached over and wrapped her hair into a ponytail, then laid a washcloth across the back of her neck. She sighed as the cool cloth seemed to ease the tension in her shoulders, and leaned her head over onto his knee.

"Are you feeling any better?" Ron asked, running his fingers lightly through her light-brown, curly hair, making her relax.

She suppressed a purr and looked up to meet his blue eyes. "I think so. I don't know how much longer I can do this, Ron."

He leaned down and kissed the crown of her head. "Hopefully not much longer. The Healer said it usually didn't last long past the first trimester."

"I'm just so damned miserable." She wanted to cringe as she heard the whine in her own voice but was afraid that might make her sick again. "I just want this part to be over."

He laughed quietly. "Yeah, well, I want a million Galleons and a pet dragon. We can't all get what we want."

She'd used that same line on him in the past, and she scowled at his common sense.

Ron kept petting her, then traced his finger across her jaw. "You're beautiful, you know."

She scoffed. "Ronald, I have vomit on my pyjamas and have already gained ten pounds."

She could feel him shaking in a silent laugh. "Pyjama-vomit aside, you're beautiful. And it's not just because you're growing our baby inside you, though Merlin knows that's an amazing thing, but Hermione, you're like bloody Aphrodite. I love you so much."

She rolled her eyes but felt a small smile cross her face as she sat up. "I don't feel beautiful. I feel like an ugly cow, thank you. I love you, too."

He helped her stand and handed her the glass of water he'd brought her earlier. "Come on, you gorgeous cow. I'll make you some toast and get you your nutrient potion."

"Idiot," she mumbled as she followed him out of the bathroom.

* * *

"Mummy!"

"Yes, Rosie, what is it?" Hermione tried to keep the sound of exasperation out of her voice. She was trying to complete a report for Kingsley and had just about lost her patience. It was wonderful that she was able to work from home twice a week so she could alternate with Ron and they wouldn't need childcare, but some days, it made her want to rip her hair out.

"Hugo just said a naughty word, Mummy, and he made a big mess."

Hermione wanted to throw something, but calmly put her work aside and let out a quiet sigh. "How did Hugo make a mess, love? He's still in his cot."

"I think you need to see, Mummy. Is he going to be in big trouble for saying a naughty word?"

"Hugo's a baby, honey. He doesn't understand. I'm sure you misunderstood him."

"But—"

"Sit down and colour with your crayons, Rosie, and please be a good girl while I see to your brother."

Hermione watched Rosie settle in, then took a deep breath, reminding herself that Ron would be home soon and she could finish her report. Maybe he'd bring home dinner. As she approached Hugo's nursery, she smiled at the sound of riotous giggles and opened the door onto—"

"Shite!" Hugo yelled from his cot, raising his poo-covered hands to his mother in welcome. "Shite, mumum!"

Hermione stood in horror for what felt like several minutes, trying to figure out how she was going to handle the situation. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to curse Ronald to the ends of the Earth for both teaching her son this word, and not being home to be the one to deal with this literal shitstorm.

Not daring to take another calming breath in the stench, she withdrew her wand and opened the windows, then cast an air-freshening charm. She looked at her son, so happy with the dark mess smearing through his copper-coloured hair and began to laugh, which just made Hugo laugh more.

"Shite!"

"No! No, Hugo. Don't say that word. Daddy should never have said that in front of you. Now, let's get this _poopie_ off you somehow."

"Shite!"

"Poo."

"Poo," Hugo mimicked, and she gave him a smile, grimacing as she noticed said poo also covered part of the wall behind the cot, painting it a rich, tanned colour.

Considering, she left him where he was and went to draw a bath for him, then returned to pick him up. She hated to use magic on her children, but this time she was sorely tempted to hit him with a cleansing charm and levitate him to the tub. Instead, she picked him up, holding him at arm's length while he grabbed at her with poo-covered hands.

"Mummy! Someone's in the fireplace!" Rose ran and stopped when she saw her brother. "Eww, is that poo, Mummy? Why does it look like toffee?"

"Yes, Rose. And I don't know why it looks like that; I suppose it's probably the carrots he ate. Who's in the fireplace?"

"Some man, but he knew my name."

Hermione wanted to sob. "Ask him his name and tell him to try me again in an hour, okay?"

"Okay!" She listened to Rosie's feet run down the hallway, then as she set her son down into the bathwater, she heard her daughter scream. Looking down at the still dirt-covered baby, she knew she couldn't leave him alone, so she scooped him up in a panic and ran down the hallway to find… to find her daughter curled up in giggles on her father's lap.

"Daddy, you're tickling me with your whiskers!"

Ron was making snuffling noises as he cuddled their daughter, and Hermione felt her heart rate begin to slow. He looked up and met her eyes with happy blue ones, crinkled at the edges, then growing wide as he took in the scene.

"Uh, 'Mione, why is Hugo dripping and covered in what I really hope isn't what I think it is?"

"Because he's _your_ son, Ronald, and you can take him while I go clean up the cot and have a shower."

Ron approached her and took a little sniff. She could see him wisely attempting to hide a laugh. "You're beautiful, you crazy woman." He leaned in and moved her likely-poo-ladened hair out of the way and kissed her cheek. "How do you look so beautiful while still covered in shite?"

"Shite!" echoed the little voice between them.

She pulled back and narrowed her eyes, then shoved the shite-covered child into his father's hands. "Go."

Ron laughed, and she watched him go, talking to Hugo the entire way. "You can't say those words in front of your mother, Son, you'll get me in trouble. But isn't she gorgeous when she's mad?"

* * *

"Come on, 'Mione, we'll be late."

She sat on their bed, running her hands over the pale brown coverlet, and sighed. "It doesn't fit."

"What doesn't fit?" Ron asked, entering their bedroom of thirty years.

"The dress I was planning on wearing tonight. I don't have anything else appropriate, and there's no time to go get another one."

"Should I call Fleur? She's good with clothing spells."

She felt her nose tickle and her eyes burn, and she knew it was stupid. She wasn't young anymore, and sometimes things moved around on her body. She should have tried the dress on sooner, but she'd been busy and had forgotten. And now, they were supposed to go to the Ministry Holiday Extravaganza, and she didn't have a dress.

Ron sat down next to her on their bed and took her hand. "Hermione, look at me."

She turned her head and met his eye.

He shook his head. "No, _look_ at me. All of me."

"Ron—"

He rolled his eyes. "Hermione. What do you see when you look at me?"

"What kind of question is that? I see my husband."

"Mm-hmm. And do you see my balding head? My extra forty pounds? My wrinkled forehead?"

"Of course not. What are you on about?"

"You're beautiful."

"Oh, for—"

"Hermione. You...are...beautiful. When I look at you, I see the girl I once broke into Gringott's with. I see a woman who agreed to marry me and who was the most amazing Minister for Magic we've ever had, and who is an even better mother and grandmother. I see _you_ , and if your dress doesn't fit, it's because you have too much fabulousness to fit into one outfit."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Fabulousness? Seriously?"

"Seriously." He grinned. "Will anyone even notice if the former Minister for Magic doesn't go to the Holiday Extravaganza? What if we put on jeans and went to a movie?"

"Ronald."

"Hermione."

She stopped and considered. That sounded so much more enjoyable.

"We can even sit in the back row and snog."

She smiled and gave him a sideways glance. "Well, if you promise I'll get a snog out of it."

He leaned over and buried his nose in her neck. "Or we could just stay in entirely. You look so sexy."

She giggled, and they never made it to the movie or to the Ministry that night.

* * *

Hermione lay in the bed of their home. She was just so tired. Tired of being ill, tired of seeing the look of concern on everyone's faces, tired of fighting.

It was her time, and she knew that.

Ron came into the room, and she saw the moment he realised what was happening. She watched him choke back a sob and cover it with a smile.

"Hey, beautiful." He approached and pulled the chair close to the bed, taking her hand.

"Hey. Did everyone go home?" She hardly recognized her own voice but tried to ignore it.

Ron nodded. "Harry and Ginny invited everyone over to their place for dinner. Rosie and Hugo are going to be back with the kids in an hour or two."

Hermione nodded. "I don't know if it's fair to call them kids when they have kids of their own, Ron," she said weakly. The images of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren ran through her head and made her smile. She wished she'd be able to see them grow up, but she knew it wasn't going to happen.

"Hermione," Ron said, kissing her hand, his blue eyes welling with tears. "I don't want you to go yet. I'm not ready"

"Yeah, well, I want a million Galleons and a pet dragon. We can't all get what we want."

He laughed through a sniffle, then cleared his throat. "Can I get you anything?"

She tried to smile. "Just talk to me. I'm so tired."

He squeezed her hand slightly, then began to talk. He told her about the time he insulted her, then turned around and saved her from a troll that same day. He told her about what he was thinking as she walked towards him down the aisle on the arm of her father, the sun shining off her light brown hair like an angel. He told her about the first time he saw her holding their newborn daughter, and then their son, and how he'd never been so proud that she'd picked him as he was in those moments. He told her how thankful he was that he'd gotten to spend the last ninety years as her best friend, and the last seventy-five as her husband. He told her how beautiful she looked right at that moment, and how he'd love her forever.

Hermione smiled. "I love you, Ronald."

She barely heard him reply as she drifted off to sleep. "You're so beautiful, Hermione. I love you."

The last time she heard him say she was beautiful was perhaps the most precious — it had ninety years of memories behind it, and it brought her peace.

* * *

_**Finis** _

**Author's Note:**

> Competition Information:  
> Theme: Ugly/Beautiful  
> Prompts: (colour) Tan, (dialogue) "Yeah, well, I want a million Galleons and a pet dragon. We can't all get what we want."  
> A/N: The colour tan (a light, pale brown) is said to create the feeling of sanctuary, relief, and security. It depicts a pure and humble nature and has associations with trustworthiness, maturity, loyalty, and encouragement. I use both the meaning and the actual colour (referred to as tan, toffee, light brown) throughout the story.


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